


I got better

by ThatPeskyAloe



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Head Injury, Phone Calls & Telephones, Shock, Temporary Character Death, This sure is some bullshit I've come up with here lads, it's like and AU within another AU I'm yet to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 07:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatPeskyAloe/pseuds/ThatPeskyAloe
Summary: He got shot, right there in front of her. She saw it.So... How is he still alive?





	I got better

What the actual fuck was she supposed to do?

The last maybe, ten minutes? It was all a blur. Jacket had come home, as normal. A little bloody. So, normal. Then a few minutes later, someone was banging at the door. She'd watched warily as Jacket approached the door with a gun in hand and a warning to her to stay back, then there was a bang, she screamed, then the sound of footsteps rapidly running away down the stairs and then tires screeching on tarmac outside as the perp sped away to god knows where.

And Jacket was on the ground, with a hole blown through his head.

In something of a daze she walked to the door and closed it. Then she put her back to it and slid to the floor, shock numbing her senses. She looked down a herself and saw traces of blood splattered on her clothes. She began to cry.

This was... Impossible! It had to be! This guy was meant to be unstoppable, right? She didn't know that much, but he knew he was meant to be good at what he did, really good. So how could this have happened? How could he possibly be lying on the floor right now, in front of her, dead?

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing as everything caught up. What should she do? She couldn't call the cops, not for Jacket. Maybe Beard...? Or just... Someone? She stood shakily, choking on another sob as she stepped around the body on the floor and stumbled to the phone in the living room, trying to remember Beard's number. It took her a few tries to punch it in with her shaking hands, holding the receiver to her ear and waiting as it rang once, twice, thrice on and on until it was finally picked up.

"Hey Jacket, what's up?"

She tried to keep her voice steady. "Nicke, it's me, I...shit, I..."

"Yo, Donna. What's wrong?"

"I-It's Jacket! He's... He's..."

She broke down into tears again, trying to stifle them. Beard comforted her through the phone.

"Woah, it's okay Donna. It's okay. Slow down, just breathe, and-"

"It's not okay! H-He's dead! I just saw him, h-he got shot-"

"I mean, he gets shot a lot-"

"In the head, Nicke!"

There was a long pause in which she heard him cough nervously. When he spoke again, he wavered slightly.

"Where is he?"

"He's just through in the hall, he opened the door and, and there was this guy, and he just... shot him! Right there! I don't know what to do!"

She was sure Beard was going to say something there, but she never heard it since she dropped the receiver when a hand was planted on her shoulder. She screamed and jumped away, tripping backwards onto the couch and looking up to see... Jacket? What? She could vaguely hear Beard's raised voice from the dangling receiver, trying to make sure she was okay, but it sounded distant, as she was distracted by the blood on his forehead and the fact he was standing. Jacket picked it up and held it to his ear.

"Donna! Are you alright?"

"S'Jacket. She's okay."

"Wh- she told me you were dead!"

"I got better."

Jacket shrugged and put down the receiver, despite Beard still talking then turned to Donna, who had since seemingly fainted in shock. He put his head in his hands. Fuck, this was a mess...

* * *

"-I don't know how or why, so don't ask. That's it."

Donna was sat on the couch next to him while he rested his forehead on his hands. Beard was perched on the edge of the table, having rushed over in a panic when he was hung up on only to find Jacket awkwardly putting a blanket over Donna and trying to wake her up. He'd sat and taken over watching her while Jacket washed the blood off his face.

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak." Donna said after a long pause.

A tiny laugh went around the three of them. Now that it had been explained and Donna knew she wasn't just hallucinating or something, she was okay, it seemed. Beard was shocked of course, but seemed curious.

"So how come you always seem to have scrapes and stuff, if you can heal that fast?"

Jacket looked up. "It only kinda... kicks in... when I die. I can fix small stuff if I want, but it's not worth it."

"Huh. Well, I'm guessing you don't really want anybody to know about this then?"

"No."

Donna spoke up. "But with what you do.... Someone's gonna find out. I mean, it's a miracle no one has already."

Jacket sighed and stood up without answering. He returned moments later with three beers, passing one to Beard and one to Donna. They all cracked them open and took a drink.

"Well..." Donna began. "As long as you're okay, I guess I don't really care how."

"Same here. It explains a lot, though."

Jacket raised an eyebrow at him. Nicke laughed.

"C'mon, you know what I mean. You were always throwing yourself into the line of fire to keep the rest of us out of dodge. I always thought you just had a death wish."

Jacket cracked a small smile. Beard tipped his head back and downed his beer in one, earning an impressed look from Jacket.

"Well, since you're both okay... I'm gonna go. I have a shift soon. You gonna be okay, cleaning all that blood up?"

"S'not that much. I can get it."

Beard threw an arm around him with a nod, catching him in a one armed hug before he stepped back.

"Right, I'm out. Take care, heal-o-matic."

He laughed as Jacket flipped him off and rolled his eyes, waving to Donna as he slipped out the door to head to one of him many, many jobs. She pushed the blanket off her shoulders and smiled at Jacket. It had all been a lot to take in, but... Well, Jacket was okay. And that was enough. She stood up.

"Okay... I'm gonna go get a bucket. Gotta clean that up."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lads so I'm on some pure bullshit and decided "hey, what if Jacket just didn't do the whole dying thing?"
> 
> I do have plans for more of this,,, but they kind of rely on me writing a whole other AU to springboard off of. Or at least a shitposty summary of it.


End file.
